Ayahuasca

BY: Tizziana Russo


From a hammock I contemplate the night
In the distance a star shines
Above the mountain sheds a sigh
A deep loneliness visits me and embraces me,
he ties me up and bites me.


Last night there was hell and also heaven
where I found a woman who was crying and when she did so her pain became rain
that wet my skin.


A man prayed to the supreme God in a fragile tone
Another woman was communicating messages.


Meanwhile I, motionless,
like a dream caterpillar,
sweating in the stillness, 
feeling my breath near the stones and the smell of burnt wood,
thinking that the path of the spirit should be in silence.


That those voices were far away
and I was in my
desperately silent like that night.


That I was a nest where time unraveled ligaments
and I could see the curtain between the things,
the maloka, the belly that contained
a sea of shadows dancing in a circle.


My spirit was still lying in the undergrowth
listening a little to the sound of souls in the drum of the wind.


Sensing the tear in a tunnel,
the one that opened in my nest
caterpillar heart
and silence,
pouring out alone.


Signals is the third book by Tizziana Russo, (Colombian-English). tizrusso@excite.com